


A Lifetime in Eight Days

by blackangus



Category: Peter Gunn (TV 1958)
Genre: 1950s, Between Seasons, Crime, Detective Noir, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Love, Murder Mystery, Pulp, Romance, Romantic Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27542998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackangus/pseuds/blackangus
Summary: A breakup and a disappearance bring heartache and change for Peter Gunn and Edie Hart. The events of the story occur between Season 1 and Season 2, placing it in the summer of 1959.
Relationships: Peter Gunn/Edie Hart





	1. Prologue: Eight Weeks Ago

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Standard Disclaimer: l own nothing and make no profit.

It was just shy of eight weeks since she'd broken up with him.

Twenty-one days since the lone date she'd gone on while attempting to persuade herself that she was over him. That she'd moved on. That she could live her life without him. That she could find someone else to love. Someone else to love _her_.

Eight days since Lieutenant Jacoby had appeared, seeking her out at Mother's, asking if she'd seen him or heard from him. Jacoby was nobody's fool. He knew she hadn't but he asked anyway.

Four hours since she got the phone call.

* * *

Eight weeks ago...

It had been building for a while, this distance between them. He had a case that had taken him out of the country for almost a week. He told her about it, let her know he was going and how long he'd be gone. Wined her, dined her, wakened her for a passion-filled goodbye the next morning. One day back and it was a repeat of the same. The second case might not have sent him away from her, at least not distance-wise, but there was still the matter of not hearing from him more than once over a period of three days. When he finally _did_ make an appearance the cast on his left wrist and the purpling bruise beneath his right eye didn't instill much comfort. And for once, neither did the soft smile and slow wink he gave her as she performed her final song of the evening.

But then life was good again for a while. Until it wasn't. The worry, the uncertainty, the wariness, the desperation came back to haunt. And she didn't know what to do. The only thing she _did_ know was that their relationship couldn't continue as it was. And it was tearing her up inside.

She was leaning against the railing, staring down toward the river with an unfocused gaze, when he finally appeared toward closing time that night. She relished his warm strength against her back as he braced his arms against the barrier and leaned forward, nuzzling a soft kiss into that special place between her neck and shoulder.

"Hi, Silly." His voice was a rough purr in her ear.

"Hi, Pete," she responded, her voice soft, sultry, lazy. Like good whiskey.

Her gaze finally focused on the softly flowing water below. She didn't turn around, but lay one hand on his larger one, lacing her fingers between his. They shared a companionable silence as he leaned his chin against her shoulder, breathing in the sweet, heavy scent of her perfume, recognizing it as the one he'd given her for her birthday several months earlier. He savored the intimacy of the moment, closing his eyes and moving his free hand to her waist and pulling her impossibly closer.

"They warned me about you, you know."

His eyes opened slightly and he looked sideways at her, a bemused expression on his face.

"They?"

"Yeah. You know." A gentle sigh escaped her lips. "People."

His eyes closed again, lulled by the soft caress of her hand on his.

"People?"

"People."

This time it was his turn to sigh. He could tell this was going to be one of those crazy conversations of hers. Those conversations were one of the things he loved about her. One of the reasons he'd fallen for her. And man had he fallen, so very hard. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile as he tried to decipher where she was going this time.

"What people?" He could be just as guileless as she when the occasion warranted.

"Just people. People you know." A slight but thoughtful frown marred her forehead for just a moment before disappearing. "People you don't know."

He straightened a bit and trailed a line of soft kisses along the back of her neck before shifting his chin to her other shoulder. Following her example, he settled his gaze on the dark shallows below. Dull points of light glittered on the crests of a few aberrant waves that sloshed against the pilings, reflections generated by the streetlight in front of the building next to Mother's.

"And just what did these people who I know and don't know warn you about?" He tried to make his voice sound serious, but there was a distinct tease in it. She took a while to answer. So long, in fact, that he had been about to say something further when she finally spoke.

"They said you were trouble."

He raised his head and dropped his eyes to the soft, rounded perfection of her cheek.

"Oh they did, did they?" He tucked a blond curl behind her ear as he pondered this. "And what other deep dark secrets did they let you in on?"

She turned her head to rest her cheek against his.

"They said you'd break my heart."

Her words were soft and her eyes had taken on a faraway look.

Straightening, he dropped his hands to her hips and gently turned her to face him. He wasn't sure where this mood had suddenly come from but he was going to put the kibosh on it. He bumped her forehead with his before placing a quick kiss on her nose.

"Don't be a silly girl."

He knew how people could be, how they could talk. It was part of his business to know. And a few years ago those people might even have been right about him. Back before he met Edie. He'd been rougher around the edges, quick tempered, impatient, confrontational. All qualities that tended to get him into trouble with both sides of the law, especially before he was able to be more selective about the cases he accepted. There had been a few women in his life, but no one he would have desired as a life-long companion. No one like Edie. And he certainly didn't think he'd broken any hearts along the way.

"You're it for me, you know that. Breaking your heart would mean breaking mine." Roughly. Tenderly. Unevenly.

His arm slipped back around her waist as she returned to her original position against the railing. They were both silent, she occupied with her own thoughts, he wondering what was on her mind. For all the simplicity and contentment she'd brought into his life, Edie Hart was still a very complicated woman to figure out sometimes. Especially at that moment. Removing his arm from its comfortable position around her waist, he leaned his elbow on the railing and turned sideways to look at her, attempting to catch her eyes. When she avoided his gaze he reached out his hand and gently cupped her cheek, turning her face toward him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as they met his and he felt an uncomfortable ache grip his insides.

"Edie, what's-"

"Pete, I can't..." Her left hand fluttered between them, a sob catching in her throat. "I can't... _do_ this anymore. This... _thing_ between us." She backed away half a step as he reached for her hand, the tears finally beginning to fall as she saw the expression of bewilderment that crossed his face as his hand fell back to his side. "I- we barely ever see each other anymore. You jump right from one case into the next and-" Wrapping her arms around her middle, she took another half step away from him, another sob escaping. "I miss you. I miss you so much and I don't-"

"Edie... Honey-" He tried to sooth her, at the same time wondering whether his voice sounded as panicked to her as it did to him. "That's how the business is sometimes. I'm sorry its been that way lately. You know that." He closed the gap between them, lifting his hands to her face and using his thumbs to brush away her tears. "Just give it some time, things'll calm down and I'll be around so much you won't know what to do with me. I'll be underfoot every way you turn and you'll be wishing for a case to come along just to get me out of your hair."

"Every time I watch you leave I wonder if it will be the _last_ time I watch you leave, if it will be the last time I ever see you- And then when I do finally see you you're all beat up... or shot up-"

"Hey, it's not that bad." He attempted a grin, his hands reaching for hers, gripping them tightly.

"But it is, Pete." Her head tilted to the side as she studied his face. After a few moments of this silent contemplation she leaned forward and captured his lips with hers in a kiss that said so many other things that she couldn't put into words. Finally she pulled away from the kiss and from him. "I love you very much." She took a shuddering breath. "And I need you very much. But we can't go on like this." She searched his eyes, willing him to understand. "I'm sorry," reached his ears in a strangled whisper as she pulled open the door and disappeared into Mother's.

He stood where he was for a long while, not moving. Wondering what had just happened. Lifting his right hand, he looked at the key she'd slipped into it as she turned to leave. The key to his apartment - and to his heart - glistening in the lamplight just as her tears had done.


	2. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Lieutenant Jacoby slumped back in his chair and ran his hands tiredly over his face, leaving his palms pressed against his eyes for about half a minute before dropping them to his lap. He stared at the ceiling, wondering where things had all gone so wrong. How had a seemingly uncomplicated meeting between Peter Gunn and a couple of somewhat shady but innocuous street hoods ended up with two men dead and his friend nowhere to be found? He slammed his fists down on his desk in frustration, the sound so loud it startled the detectives and uniforms in the outer office.

There had to be something he was missing. Pete had been doing him a favor, plain and simple, by talking to the two low-class hoods who were rumored to have the skinny on several recent heists. Pete knew who the guys were and Jacoby figured they'd be more forthcoming with the PI than with a cop. Word on the street was their information was available for cheap, mainly a few bucks and an unwritten promise that Jacoby and his men would lay off them for a few recent minor infractions. They were small potatoes compared to the gang he was after, making Jacoby more than a little willing to turn a blind eye.

Pete had conferred with one or two of his wayward flock, slipping a five here and a ten there, and had managed to set up a meeting in a relatively circumspect area of the rundown warehouse district along the waterfront for ten-thirty the prior evening. Easy as pie. Maybe too easy. Jacoby had sent along an unmarked car just in case trouble broke out. After all, Peter Gunn and trouble seemed to go hand in hand, no matter the circumstances. Sergeant Davis and a plainclothes detective had been in the car near the meeting place at the appointed time. The meet had gone down as planned and his men had left the scene upon seeing Pete head for his car at approximately ten to eleven. That was the last anyone had seen of Pete. When he failed to make an appearance in Jacoby's office shortly following the meeting, as planned, and when he didn't answer calls to his car phone or his home phone, Jacoby had personally rounded up Sergeant Davis and headed back to the warehouse district. Pete's car was still parked in the same spot. But there was no Pete. And that's where things continued to stand over twenty-four hours later.

And now it was fast approaching the point where he had to do something he really didn't want to do.

* * *

"Hello, Mother."

The woman in question glanced up from a pad of paper she was scribbling on, her shrewd gaze taking in the plainclothes policeman standing at the bar, hat in hand. She gave him a dour look and returned to her writing.

"If you're looking for Pete he isn't here." Mother's response to Jacoby's greeting was brusque and unsmiling.

The policeman set his hat on a stool and placed his clasped hands on the bar as he leaned against it. This might be even harder than he thought it would be.

"Actually I _am_ looking for Pete and I'm aware he's not here. I wish it were that simple."

His voice was soft. It was the one he reserved for imparting bad news to the families of crime victims. Mother didn't know that of course. She figured he was just trying to keep the peace. Wasn't that what always happened when little families were torn apart and the friends and acquaintances held in common were affected? They didn't want to take sides, didn't even know if there were sides to take. Some drifted away, some tried to help pick up the pieces, some tried to pretend nothing had happened, and others just tried to keep the peace. Mother tabbed Jacoby as one of the latter. And to be perfectly honest she didn't have the time or patience for any of them.

Jacoby tried again.

"When was the last time Pete was in here?"

Something in his voice must have pricked Mother's attention. She put down her pencil and mirrored his stance at the bar. She gave what appeared to Jacoby to be a furtive glance toward the stage area. He turned his head just enough to note that he'd gained a little attention from that part of the club, where Edie Hart sat at the piano with Emmett Ward apparently going over some music with the other members of the combo. They were all looking at him and Mother. Great. Just great. He looked again at Mother as he waited for her reply.

"Couple mornings ago," she finally said. "Late." Ergo, after Edie had gone home. Which meant probably somewhere between two-thirty and three.

"Anything in particular on his mind?"

"Just the usual." Mother shrugged. The new usual. She didn't say that though. "Checked his messages. Had a Coke with Barney. Asked about Edie, if she was okay, if there was anything she needed." She looked like she wanted to say more but she didn't.

"His messages. You remember how many, who they were from, anything like that?" Jacoby pulled a small notebook and a pen from his shirt pocket.

"I know one was from Babby. The others-" She shook her head and motioned Barney over from where the bartender was watching and listening with overt interest as he pretended to dry a glass. "You remember, Barney?"

"Yeah, Babby left a message that he had some information and that he'd hang around the pool hall until Pete got there. And there were a couple callbacks, just letting Pete know that whatever it was he wanted was set up. One was from a guy called Felony." Mother rolled her eyes at that. "And one was from that little guy with the thick glasses, I can't remember his name offhand but I remember that's who it was. And there was a message from a man who wanted to talk about something having to do with insurance, I guess maybe an insurance case, I'm not sure." Barney shrugged. "Pete crumpled that one up and threw it away."

Jacoby nodded and stared at his notes. Nothing really new there, other than the insurance man, and that seemed pretty innocuous. He wondered aloud if the trash from the day before might still be in the alley and if it was possible to find that message. Barney shook his head no, the trash and been picked up the prior afternoon.

Mother leaned further in toward Jacoby, watching as he slowly put his notebook and pen back in his pocket.

"What's with all the questions, Lieutenant?" She frowned. "Has something happened to Pete?"

Jacoby sighed.

"I wish I knew the answer to that." And he proceeded to tell her what had happened, leaving out a few disquieting details she really didn't need to know.

* * *

Sitting on the piano bench next to Emmett, Edie Hart's attention wavered between the scales the piano player was experimenting with and the conversation between Lieutenant Jacoby and Mother. A conversation that appeared to be quickly escalating into an argument. Mother's hands slapped the counter as she exchanged some heated words with the policeman, spurring Edie to abandon her perch on the stage and head quickly to the front of the club to intervene. The soft music from the stage came to a halt as she rounded the bar and gently grasped Mother's arm, a glare from her blue eyes directed at Jacoby.

"What's going on?" Edie had a sinking feeling that she really didn't want to know the answer to that question but she asked it anyway, her gaze never wavering from Jacoby's.

"He lost Pete, that's what's going on!" Mother's voice was almost venomous in its intensity. She pulled her arm out of Edie's grasp and rounded the bar to come face to face with Jacoby. "How can you lose a full grown man?" she demanded.

Her flabbergasted question echoed around the club as Edie continued to hold Jacoby's gaze, that sinking feeling of hers beginning to take on sickening overtones.


	3. The Proof in the Vinyl

An uneasy silence stretched between the man and woman occupying the front seat of Lieutenant Jacoby's squad car. He'd explained the situation to Edie, told her everything there was to tell about the circumstances surrounding Pete's disappearance. _Almost_ everything. As was the case during his conversation with Mother, he'd omitted a few specific details, though where Edie was concerned he wasn't certain how long he'd be able to hold out before she started asking questions. She was very good with the questions. This he knew from listening to the sometimes exasperating conversations she and Pete shared. But Jacoby had some questions of his own, and even though he pretty much knew what her responses would be he still needed to ask them. Had Edie talked to Pete lately? No. Had she seen him at all in the past several days? That one earned him an inscrutable look and a shake of the head. Now he sat drumming his fingers silently on the steering wheel while she stared out the front window of the car. A steady rain had moved in as they talked, blurring the windshield and giving the inside of the car a ghostly appearance as it sat beneath the neon of Mother's tall sign. The rivulets of water trickling down the windshield were reflected on Edie's face, making it difficult for Jacoby to differentiate between them and the streaks of tears he knew were also there.

"Look, Edie-" Jacoby's gentle voice finally broke the silence. He hunched his shoulders and folded his arms over the top of the steering wheel, moving his gaze to the same bleak street scene that Edie was staring at. "I know Pete's not-" He paused, treading lightly, trying to choose his words carefully. "I realize you and Pete aren't together right now and it's not your responsibility to have to worry about-"

Her watery hiccup of a sob interrupted him.

"My responsibility? Of course it's my responsibility. He's Pete and I'll always worry about him. I've been doing nothing else since-" Her voice trailed off. With the palms of her hands she wiped at the silent tears running down her cheeks. Then wrapping her arms around herself she turned her head to stare out the side window toward the front door of the club. More silence.

"You know," Jacoby tried again after a short while, "whatever it was Pete did, I know if it were possible he'd turn back the clock and try to do it all over again some other way. There's no way in the world he would ever do anything to purposely hurt you." He knew he was probably butting in where he wasn't wanted, and that what happened personally between Peter Gunn and Edie Hart had nothing to do with the big picture of Pete's current whereabouts. But frankly he really had no idea what to say to this woman at this precise moment.

"Pete didn't do anything."

The policeman turned his head to look at her but she kept her face averted. The corner of the window fogged up as Edie sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. After a few minutes she dropped her head to the seatback and stared out the windshield again.

"What aren't you telling me?"

There it was. Jacoby knew it would only be a matter of time and she certainly didn't disappoint. Her question was one he wished he could sidestep and he desperately wanted to do just that. It would probably be easy enough. But there'd be stuff in the morning paper that would allow her do draw her own conclusions about things he himself didn't even want to think about. He didn't want that. She deserved better, however much it might hurt. Jacoby sighed, briefly considering the best way to answer her question, finally deciding to just be up front and honest. The best policy, right? Sometimes he wondered.

"Those two hoods I asked Pete to talk to..." Jacoby's eyes tightened as he stared through the rainy darkness, a dull ache in his gut. He finally shifted his gaze to the woman next to him. Edie was looking back at him with an unfathomable expression in her blue eyes. "Harbor Patrol pulled their bodies out of the East River earlier this evening. Both shot in the head, probably been dead for as long as Pete's been missing."

Holding his eyes Edie slowly shook her head, swallowing thickly before finding her voice.

"Pete..."

Jacoby shook his head brusquely.

"Don't even think it. We're going to find Pete. I promise." His voice was gruff.

He sighed and dropped back in his seat, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face, knowing he was beyond stupid for making such a promise but needing to take that look off her face. The fact that her expression didn't change told him he had been unsuccessful at allaying her fears.

"This whole thing smells of a set-up..." He turned wearily in his seat to face Edie. "Look, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything. You know I'll do anything for Pete."

* * *

Jacoby unlocked the apartment door and ushered Edie in ahead of him. It felt weird. It should have been the other way around. He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably as he shoved his key ring into his coat pocket and followed her down the step and into the living room. In two previous visits to Pete's apartment since his friend's disappearance he hadn't noticed anything out of place nor had he seen any signs that an intruder might have been there. But as he'd confided to Edie, he hadn't exactly been going by police protocol the first time through. He'd been a bit more conscientious in his examination of the premises the second time around but by that time he wasn't really sure what he might be looking for, if anything. He shook his head morosely. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been less professional.

His gaze followed Edie as she lay her purse and coat on the back of the sofa. He'd gone back into the club to get her things for her, giving her a few minutes alone in the car and saving her from having to run the gauntlet of an already aggravated Mother as well as an incensed cadre of musicians. Not to mention Barney, who'd followed him suspiciously back to Edie's dressing room. The atmosphere had been cold to say the least. He'd paused on his way out and turned back to face them all, opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Mother had broken the awkward silence in her usual forceful way. "Just find Pete."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be looking for."

Edie's uncertain voice brought Jacoby back to the present. He blinked his eyes into focus and gave her a contemplative stare.

"That makes two of us."

At the troubled look in Edie's eyes he released a long sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck with one calloused hand. Then he removed his hat and dropped it on a side table.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be facetious. I just-" He gestured, arms outstretched and palms up, indicating the living space around them. "I just thought you might be able to see some things that I can't. Maybe something missing or out of place. Little things like that. You're much more familiar with Pete's apartment than I am."

"I haven't been here in a while." Her words were soft. She ran gentle fingers over the ivory of the chess set sitting ready for play on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

"Nothing's changed." Jacoby's heavy-lidded gaze followed her as she moved around the room. "Believe me."

Edie fixed him with a pensive stare, sensitive to the undercurrent in his words. Finally breaking eye contact, she slowly moved to the other side of the room where the phonograph stood open, several record jackets lying next to it. From the corner of her eye she saw Jacoby grab the telephone and begin dialing.

"I need to call the Precinct to find out if there's anything new." He gave her a brief glance and a nod as he sat down on the nearest chair. "Take your time."

She half-listened as he spoke to Sergeant Davis for a few minutes. Most of Jacoby's part of the conversation consisted of monosyllabic answers and grunts. He eventually hung up and got to his feet, buttoning his coat and tying the belt loosely. As he grabbed his hat he indicated that he needed to get back to his office. Edie nodded absently.

"I can't find the records." She turned to him, two record jackets in her hand. "They're not on the player and these are empty."

Jacoby shrugged, uncertain of the relevance as far as something being missing or out of place. Who'd enter someone's apartment only to leave with a couple LPs minus their jackets?

"Maybe he put them back in the wrong sleeves."

"Pete?" Edie raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

This time Jacoby frowned.

"Is there another player anywhere?"

When she shook her head no he reached for the record jackets and looked at them curiously, flipping them over and back again. _The_ _Versatile_ _Henry_ _Mancini_ the one said, the other was something called _Brubeck_ _Time_. He stuck them under his arm and reached in his pocket for his keys. His brown eyes held a thoughtful expression as they met her gaze.

"I'm not sure these mean anything but I'll take them with me anyway. You ready to go? I can drop you at home on my way."

She shook her head hesitantly, her eyes sliding away from his and darting around the apartment.

"I'd like to stay for a while if it's okay with you."

Jacoby nodded, his expression softening. He silently slipped the key to Pete's apartment, which he'd obtained from the landlord the previous day, off his key ring and laid it on the side table next to the telephone.

"You don't need my permission." He made a move toward the small foyer. "I have an unmarked car watching the building. I'll let the officer know you'll be staying." He watched as she settled on the sofa. "Pete's keys weren't in his car. Make sure you keep the door locked and the chain on." He quietly studied her for a few moments, his eyes moving over her delicate profile and the soft blond hair curling over her shoulders. "I'll call if we find out anything." He stepped to the door, preparing to leave.

"It just seemed like he was never there anymore."

Edie's velvety-smooth voice brought Jacoby to a sudden stop, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he turned to look at her.

"He was always somewhere else, working on a case." She turned her face toward Jacoby. "I think he was spending more time with his little band of misfits than he was with me. And I guess I was jealous of that... like I am about anything else in his life that doesn't include me." She swallowed and wiped at the sudden wetness on her cheeks. "He tried to tell me things would get better but I wouldn't listen. And I wanted to kill myself when I told him I couldn't do it anymore and I saw the confused look on his face and I knew I should have just been patient and talked to him about it but I couldn't stop and-" Edie knew she was rambling and the tears were coming down harder. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She felt the sofa give under Jacoby's weight as he sat down next to her and she felt the warm strength of his hand covering hers. He laced his fingers with hers, feeling a kindred pain as she leaned her shoulder lightly against his. They sat that way for a while, neither saying anything.

"You know," Jacoby finally interrupted the silence, "despite all his strengths Pete has one very great flaw." He tipped his head and looked into her eyes as she opened them at his quiet words. "He has a habit of caring too much sometimes. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but more often than not it gets him into trouble because he thinks he can just go out there and save the world of every poor soul that comes to him with their problem. And sometimes even he gets overwhelmed."

He sighed and glanced toward the sliding doors leading out onto the small balcony. The rain continued to fall, having turned from a steady shower into a cold thunderstorm at the leading edge of an incoming front, the heavy drops pelting the metal table and chairs sitting outside. He returned his gaze to the woman next to him.

"And that's not his fault, it's just who he is. And once upon a time there really wasn't anyone who noticed enough or who cared enough when that happened."

His grip on her hand tightened.

"Then one day he met you, and you threw him for a real loop. And you still do and you always will. And you know what? Maybe breaking up with him wasn't such a bad thing. Because sometimes he needs a swift kick to that stubborn head of his to set him back on track. All of us men do at one time or another. Just ask my wife, she'll be more than happy to expound on how many times we called it quits before we got married, and after for that matter. It takes a person who really cares to deliver a kick like that. And please believe me when I tell you that Pete understands that." He tried a smile that didn't get very far but he could tell she appreciated the effort. "He's at his happiest and at his best when he's with you. If that wasn't already obvious, the past weeks have been a tell."

Jacoby gave her hand another squeeze, picked up the record jackets he'd placed on the cushion beside him and got back to his feet, his walk to the door much more brisk this time. He looked over his shoulder at her as he opened the door.

"Remember what I said about the locks," he reminded. "Call me if you need anything. If I'm not at the Precinct somebody'll be able to find me." The door clicked shut behind him.


	4. The Past Comes Knocking

Peter Gunn groaned and attempted to roll over. Something was keeping him from doing so, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. He coughed, partly because of the dirt he was inhaling, partly because he couldn't seem to draw a deep enough breath to fill his lungs. His chest and ribs ached every time he inhaled and his head hurt worse than it had that time when he was ten years old and he'd taken a headfirst flyer over the handlebars of his bike and buried his face in the pavement. He coughed again, a deeper cough this time, and a razor-sharp pain shot through his skull, bringing with it a feeling of intense nausea. When the pain eventually subsided he tried again to roll over onto his back, finally realizing he couldn't because his hands were cuffed behind him.

"Oh great." The words came out on another groan and Pete tasted the unmistakable coppery bitterness of blood in his mouth. Carefully opening his eyes a crack, and cautiously lifting his head, he tried to figure out where he was. There was nothing but darkness save for a dull glow creeping through a slit of a window high up on a wall. That bare trace of light, filtering through several dirty panes of glass, was still more than his eyes could handle before the nausea took over again. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back to the ground, feeling small bits of sharp gravel dig into his cheek and chin. A warehouse maybe, but a small one, nothing like those along the waterfront district where he'd met up with Jacoby's stoolies. Or maybe a basement or cellar. The floor was unfinished, which could mean anything or nothing. There was a cold dampness clinging to the air and he could hear a drip, drip, drip somewhere nearby.

He tried to think. He had no idea how he'd ended up here. He remembered walking to his car, digging in his pants pocket for his keys, picking out the one he needed with the aid of the streetlight. The echo of footsteps as he inserted the key in the lock. Being grabbed from behind on both sides as he pulled the car door open. A punch in the gut before he could react, a flurry of punches as he tried to fight back. A low blow that sent him to his knees. A savage hit to the face that had his head connecting solidly with the curb. Then nothing. He wondered how long he'd been out. It was daylight outside so what, seven, eight hours? If he knew Jacoby, by now every cop in the city would be looking for him.

Shivering a little, Pete realized he was no longer wearing his suit jacket. Wiggling around a bit he determined he was also missing his shoes. He thought his wristwatch might also be gone. No doubt his pockets had been emptied. He listened to his stomach growl, the sound of his hunger strangely loud but somehow comforting. He'd picked up a chicken sandwich and a quarter of a blueberry pie at the diner up the street from his apartment the previous evening, taking the food home with him for a solitary early supper. His insides really shouldn't be rumbling that much. Maybe it was later in the day than he thought.

Pete grimaced and fidgeted, then stilled. A chuffing sound of footfalls from somewhere overhead broke the silence. He tried to concentrate through the pounding in his head. Two people, three? There'd been three last night, so maybe they'd come back. There was the click of a spring lock being released followed by the thud of a door opening, a glare of artificial light streaming through the oblong opening behind a trio of men as they navigated down a short flight of wooden steps. Pete closed his eyes and willed himself to relax as he waited to find out what they had in mind. A sharp kick in the region of his right kidney quickly gave him an idea of the purpose behind their visit. He couldn't help but flinch and draw a hissing breath as the pain radiated through his lower back and abdomen.

"Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't the late great Peter Gunn himself."

The sardonic voice from above drew his attention away from his pain and he opened his eyes to three pairs of shoes on a level with his face, all black and newly shined. Two pairs of wing-tip Oxfords and one pair of Florsheims. Not the usual fare for muggers. Pete tried to peer upward to get a look at their faces but couldn't manage the odd angle.

"Look, fellas," his voice was gritty even to his own ears and it took some real concentration on his part just to get the words out, "you obviously got what you wanted so why don't you play nice and drop me off somewhere, preferably alive and in one piece, and we'll just call it a day."

"Not even close, lover boy."

The speaker of the group motioned with his head to his two companions, one of whom pulled on a string hanging from a dirty, bare bulb attached to the ceiling directly above, flooding the room with stale yellow light. The other pushed his foot into Pete's shoulder to turn him halfway onto his side, bringing forth a grunt of pain but allowing him to see the face of the man speaking to him.

"You probably never expected to see me again." The man sent a gloating smile down upon him. Pete squinted upward against the light and tried to make sense of the double image looking back at him. As the two images coalesced into one shape he saw a man of about his own age and size, with a broad, almost kindly-looking face topped by a bushy cap of dark brown hair. A jagged scar had all but replaced his left eyebrow. Even in the unlikely event he didn't recognize the face, Pete would always remember that scar.

"You're supposed to be in prison," he managed.

"Yeah, well I was. But I got sprung a couple weeks ago. Real legal-like. Guess you didn't get the word, huh Gunn? Early release for good behavior." The man laughed sharply and loudly as though at an especially good joke. "Can you believe that? Good behavior!" His jocularity evaporated as suddenly as it had appeared. He squatted down on his haunches directly in front of Pete, his voice harsh as he continued to speak. "It's a miracle I even got out of that hellhole alive. And everything that happened to me in that place? It was all because of you, because you sent me there." He reached out with his right hand and gave Pete's cheek an almost brotherly pat, in direct contrast to the animosity of his words. "You owe me big time and I plan to make sure you pay up. For every beating I took, for every minute I spent in solitary, for every day of freedom that was taken away from me."

"I didn't send you to prison. A jury put you there."

" _You_ put me there. Because you couldn't keep your stupid PI nose out of my business!" the man hissed. "And now we're gonna make things even." He reached behind him, beneath his suit jacket, and pulled out a short, dark snub-nosed revolver. He pushed the barrel of the gun against Pete's jaw none too gently. "You're gonna feel my hurt. And after that I'm gonna put this gun in your ear and blow your brains out."

Pete could feel the perspiration gathering on his upper lip and felt his pulse quicken sharply at the man's words. He'd found himself in a lot of predicaments over the years from which he'd somehow managed to extricate himself, either through subtlety or just plain brute force, but he had a stomach-turning feeling he just might not be able to get himself out of this one.

"By now the word's on the street and every cop in town will be on your tail. Kill me and you won't have to worry about your freedom. They'll send you straight to the electric chair."

"It's been over thirty-six hours and nobody's come knocking at the door yet but the Avon lady," the man returned sarcastically, then correctly interpreted the confusion in Pete's eyes. "Yeah, you can thank Charlie here for that," he gestured with his gun toward the big man who still had his foot pressed against Pete's shoulder. "He got a little carried away and bent your head against the cement. He's been real worried you were never gonna wake up. I told him if he took all my fun away from me, he'd be the one looking down the wrong end of the barrel." Pulling himself back to a standing position, he nodded at Charlie, who gave Pete's shoulder a swift dig with the heel of his shoe before removing his foot. Pete ended up back on his stomach with his face buried in the dirt.

* * *

"Why the _hell_ weren't we informed about Denner's release?" Jacoby barked into the phone. "You people have a duty to let us know when these things happen! I have a good mind to contact the Governor's office directly and file a complaint against the state prison system."

Jacoby spoke in stronger language than he was normally known for and his calm demeanor had been replaced by irritation and anger and something else less easily defined. Fear. Genuine fear. For the first time since his friend had gone missing a feeling of true helplessness had taken him over. While before the enemy had remained unknown and disguised, his true identity had now been brought to light. And it wasn't a good feeling to learn who that enemy was. He continued to listen to the nervous voice at the other end of the line. A nervous prison warden was not a good thing by any stretch of the imagination.

"I don't want to hear about lost paperwork or not enough staff or who you do or do not report to! Every single individual involved with that case should have been informed before the soles of that man's shoes ever hit the pavement. I want every piece of information about his release, the names of everyone he has to report to, the address he was returning to-"

Jacoby rolled his eyes as he was interrupted yet again. He listened to some more long-winded explanations then jumped up from his chair in aggravation.

"What do you mean unconditional? You mean to tell me this man was given an unconditional release from prison four years early-" He cocked his head to one side and rubbed his hand over his forehead as the words continued to pour into his ear. "On who's authority? ...Oh really, the Parole Board and who else?" His voice had taken on a sarcastic overtone. "I want that information on my desk _yesterday._ You do what you have to do to make it happen."

Jacoby slammed the phone down then just stood there and took a minute to try and clear his head. How could things get any worse? There was no way they could. Absolutely no way. He took a deep breath and released it slowly before making his way into the squad room. Every detective he had was on duty and it seemed every street cop and patrol cop in the precinct had come in on short notice. Maybe not all for the same reason, but those diverse reasons merged to form the glue that held every good police department together. Some of them were there because they'd been around during the case involving Pauly Denner and they knew first hand what it had _really_ been all about. Others had only heard about it in the back rooms and basements of the 13th Precinct or other precincts where they'd worked. They were there because they understood the price that had been paid by a lot of good people to put Denner behind bars, even if he hadn't been made to pay for the worst crime he'd committed. Then there were those who were there because of Pete. Probably more than Jacoby realized or would ever know. His group of cops liked Peter Gunn. The man could be a pest sometimes and he always managed to take some liberties that weren't entirely within his venue, but he was well-liked by the men and women under Jacoby's command.

He stood in the doorway for a few moments watching the bustle going on around him, then stepped toward the center of the squad room to get everyone's attention. He explained in a few short words the urgency of locating one Edward Paul 'Pauly' Denner, age 34, six feet one inch tall, two hundred pounds, brown hair, brown eyes, one visible distinguishing mark a scar above the left eye. Copies of a mugshot were handed around. The Lieutenant allowed his serious gaze to touch on each person in the room.

"Each of you knows your assignment. Do it to the very best of your ability without doing anything that might exacerbate the situation. You've all been made aware of how the dissemination of information will be working in this case. Everything will be coming through this office, whether the information comes from somewhere within this precinct or from one of the surrounding precincts. And above all-" he held up one hand to make sure he still had everyone's full attention,"-don't any one of you try to be a hero and go after this guy if you get a lead on him. You hear anything, you see anything, anybody comes forward with information, you report it directly to me and then continue to go about your business. Denner lying dead on a street corner because one of you gets trigger happy doesn't bring us any closer to finding Pete."


	5. The Long and the Short of It

Entering the small kitchen of Pete's apartment, Lieutenant Jacoby placed a carton of food on the light blue Formica tabletop and began to lay out the items he'd purchased. He had spoken with Edie about an hour earlier, making arrangements to come over and talk, and had stopped by the diner a few blocks up the street on the way. Having first phoned her apartment and gotten no answer, and recalling her frame of mind when he left her at Pete's place in the very wee hours of the morning, he figured she was still there. When the officer currently watching the building confirmed she hadn't left, Jacoby gave her a call, told her he'd be over and that he would pick up some supper for the two of them. She hadn't argued with him about supper, which he took as a good sign, but she'd promptly excused herself and headed upstairs after opening the door to him. He decided she was probably doing some woman thing so he found some plates and silverware to set the table with then leaned against the counter to wait. When she eventually walked into the kitchen about ten minutes later he had his arms folded across his chest and his gaze glued to his shoes. It wasn't until he heard her say his name that he even realized she was standing there.

"Oh, sorry," he murmured, mentally shaking himself before straightening and motioning politely toward the table. "I wasn't sure what you might like so I just picked up a couple of their specials."

Edie nodded then pulled the coffee pot out from beneath the counter and began adding grounds and water. Once that was done to her satisfaction she pulled open the refrigerator door and asked Jacoby what he'd like to drink. He spied a couple bottles of Budweiser on the bottom shelf.

"I'd like a beer." Then he eyed the top shelf. "Unfortunately I'm on duty so I'll just have some milk if that's all right." _Maybe_ _it'll_ _help_ _settle_ _my_ _stomach_ , he thought. He looked on as Edie poured them each a glass. Then he watched as she stood and fidgeted, apparently loath to join him at the table. He eyed her critically. She looked tired. He guessed she'd taken a shower before his arrival as her face was free of makeup and the very tips of her hair were still damply curling. She was an extremely pretty woman, he certainly had to give Pete credit there. She was wearing a blue and white checked shirt, he wouldn't call it a blouse, and a very worn pair of casual white slacks. Either she'd had someone bring her some of her things or the clothes had been stashed at Pete's. He had a feeling it was probably the latter. Jacoby released a soft sigh and nodded toward the table.

"Sit."

Edie glanced at the table and the food on it before clasping her nervous hands in front of her and giving Jacoby a steeled look.

"Why don't you just say what you came to say and get it over and done with." Her response was more of a statement than a question.

The policeman shook his head, a gentle yet determined expression on his face and in his eyes.

"I'm afraid it's not going to work that way. I have a feeling you haven't eaten since yesterday, so that's the first order of business. After that I'm going to tell you some things and then you're going to go to bed and get some sleep." He held his hand up, palm outward, when Edie opened her mouth to say something further. "No arguments. They won't get you anywhere at all." He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit then took the seat opposite her.

"I'm not really hungry."

"That's too bad, you're eating anyway. And like I said, no arguments. I have kids. I've heard every argument in the book. They don't work for them and they won't work for you."

"Fine." Her reply reminded Jacoby of a truculent child but she did take a bite of her roast beef sandwich. Within a few moments they were both tucking into green beans and mashed potatoes as well. They ate silently until the meal was almost finished. Jacoby was the one to interrupt the quiet.

"When I stopped by Stanley's the blonde girl behind the counter...Millie?" He received a nod from Edie. "After I gave her my order she looked at me and looked at me, then finally asked me wasn't I Mr. Gunn's friend from the police department. I told her yes and she mentioned that Pete stopped by the other evening for the first time in a while. I finally got it narrowed down to Tuesday evening before-" He paused, peering at Edie as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. _Before_ _he_ _headed_ _out to_ _meet_ _those_ _two_ _hoods_ _in_ _what_ _was obviously_ _a_ _setup_ _orchestrated_ _by_ _Pauly_ _Denner_. _And_ _I_ _helped_ _lead_ _him straight_ _into_ _it_. Jacoby didn't say the words out loud, but they'd been niggling at the back of his mind all day. "Anyway, I got her talking and tried to find out whether anyone else had come in while he was there or if she noticed anyone hanging around, things like that. She had no idea but do you know what she _could_ tell me?" It was a rhetorical question and Jacoby didn't wait for an answer. "She could tell me what style and color suit he had on, what color his tie was, what his cuff links looked like, what type of shoes he had on and what cologne he was wearing." He saw Edie's lips tip up briefly, which was what he was going for. "I go into a place and they don't remember my face ten minutes later, much less what I ordered or what clothes I was wearing."

Jacoby leaned back in his chair as Edie stood and cleared the plates off the table and took cups down from an upper cabinet, returning with two cups of black coffee. After retrieving sugar and cream she settled back down in her seat and began adding both to her liking. He followed suit, sending an occasional glance her way, finally wrapping his hands around the warm cup and leaning into the table.

"Does it ever bother you?"

She looked at him curiously then picked up the train of conversation.

"Not as much as it once did." The corners of her mouth tipped up again. "It's just another one of those things that's not his fault," using Jacoby's words from early that morning. "He is who he is and I know other women find him attractive. If I was one of those other women I would too. But I give him a hard time about it when I get the chance just to keep him on his toes. I think it does things for his ego when he thinks I'm jealous." She lifted her cup for a sip of coffee then set the cup down and stared into its depths, arms folded on the table as she continued in a somber tone. "But that's as far as it goes, you know? They may see what he is on the outside but they have no idea about anything else... like what color boxers he's wearing under that suit or who gave him the cuff links or why he wears that cologne or what brand of toothpaste he uses or what side of the bed he sleeps on. Those are things he saves for me. Or at least he did until I messed everything up."

"You and Pete will be okay. He hasn't gone anywhere."

Edie searched his gentle eyes and nodded hesitantly at the truth she found there. She could only pray he was right.

They drank their coffee in silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought, Jacoby trying to pull some words together to say what he needed to say, Edie trying not to dwell on where Pete might be and how much trouble he might be in and whether he was hurt or worse. She rested her chin on her hand as she continued to stare into her coffee, a reminiscent smile forming on her lips.

"I remember the very first time I ever laid eyes on Pete."

Jacoby leaned back and watched as she spoke, deciding he just might be on the cusp of a great discovery. Pete had never been one to publicly advertise his relationships, keeping his personal life just that, even when it came to good friends. Sure, he knew that Peter Gunn's relationship with Edie Hart went way beyond smooching on the deck behind Mother's or making out on that couch in the other room. Everybody who knew them was aware of that. But neither one of them talked about it. They probably just took it for granted that people could and would figure it out for themselves. Not that it was anyone's business. He hadn't even known Pete was dating the woman until three months after the fact. That's how much they kept to themselves about things.

"I had an audition at Mother's but she had something come up during the time I was supposed to be there, so she had me come in that evening and do a live audition instead." She slanted a glance at Jacoby. "When the club was actually open." He nodded his understanding. "I got there a little early to go over some music with Emmett and the other guys and then we did a set using just some stuff we all knew. Mother apparently liked it because she had us do a second set a little later. About halfway through the second set the door opened and this fella came in..." She picked up her spoon and began to absently stir the remains of her coffee. "He wandered over to Mother's table and sat down and she did that little thing she always does with his chin and gave him a kiss on the cheek. And she smiled at him." She laughed a little and shifted her gaze to the man sitting across from her. "That was the first time I'd actually seen her smile since I'd met her, so I figured he must be someone special. And he got this little smile on his face, just the corners of his mouth curving up, but you could see it in his eyes, too. And they talked for a little bit and then he turned toward the stage and started listening. And his eyes kept smiling and it felt like he was staring straight into my soul." Another small laugh and a wide self-deprecating smile. "And I thought he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

Jacoby studied her for a moment as she lapsed into silence. Rising from his chair he retrieved the coffee pot and poured them both a second cup. The sugar and cream ritual went by the wayside as he instead clasped his hands before him on the table and stared across at her. Edie placed her own hands on the table, grasping her coffee cup as if needing something to hang on to, and gazed back at him. After pondering for a moment Jacoby began to speak, his voice soft and reflective.

"There was a homicide case about six years ago. It started out as a missing persons case, a young girl who'd just graduated from high school. Her name was Eleanora White. Her parents reported her missing when she didn't return home from a friend's house. She was seventeen, still underage, so the investigation began rather quickly when she still hadn't made it home by nightfall." Jacoby spoke slowly, reliving the case while he talked, trying to give a simplified explanation of something that had been very complicated at the time it happened. "But it seemed like she'd disappeared into thin air. She'd never been at the friend's house to begin with. None of her other friends had seen or heard from her. Every tip turned into a false lead. About a week after she went missing her body was found dumped beside the railroad tracks on the east side of town, right where Harmony Road cuts across the tracks and turns into a wooded area." The policeman stared at his clasped hands, a frown wrinkling his brow. "She'd been strangled. The medical examiner also determined she'd been assaulted." A simple word that could mean many things, but he could see that the woman seated across from him understood its implication in this instance.

"Did you find out who killed her?" Edie wasn't sure yet where the story was going or how it might involve Pete, but knowing Jacoby he'd get to it eventually.

"Yes and no." Jacoby took a gulp of coffee before continuing, grimacing at its tepidness. "The investigation lasted for a couple months and we had a suspect locked down. I won't go into details because they're too long and complicated, but we knew the guy was guilty. We absolutely knew without a doubt that he did the crime. The problem was we didn't have the evidence to prove it in front of a judge or jury. There were no fingerprints or other physical clues left behind to tie him to the case. He had an airtight alibi for every minute of every day the girl was missing. He had people protecting him and our regular snitches weren't talking. Our hands were tied unless someone came forward with information and that never happened."

The policeman rubbed his hands over his face then set his arms on the table, his fingers drawing restless patterns on the shiny surface.

"As you can imagine the parents were devastated, they didn't know where to turn. They wanted justice for their daughter. So did I. So did every cop in this town. So when the father asked me for the name of someone in the private sector who could be trusted to take a look at the case, someone who couldn't be bought off and who wasn't afraid of who he might come up against, I took him to see Pete." Jacoby breathed out a deep sigh. "Pete busted his tail on that case, running down everyone we'd talked to and finding people we hadn't thought to interview, going over everything in our files, talking to every cop who worked on the case. He had contacts, even then, who could come up with information for him that we in the department could never even hope to lay our eyes on. And still he came up empty just like we had."

"So this man got away with what he did." Edie could only imagine Pete's disappointment. He didn't take such outcomes well, always wondering what more he could have done or what he might have done differently. And six years ago he'd been much younger and undoubtedly much less experienced. It would probably have affected him harder back then.

"Not entirely." The ghost of a smile lit Jacoby's face. "Pete is resourceful if nothing else. While we old fuddy-duddy cops were just looking to take this guy down for murder, Pete decided that anything that would put him behind bars for any length of time would at least be a start at making him pay for Eleanora White's death. Between what he dug up during his investigation, and what the guys in Organized Crime had been sitting on for a couple years already, Pauly Denner ended up being prosecuted for an assortment of crimes and was sentenced to ten years in state prison. It wasn't much but it was something."

"I don't understand what all of this has to do with what happened to Pete."

"When Pauly Denner went to trial he drew Judge Harry Sedgewick. The guy's a no-nonsense type who's known for tough sentencing. Denner had already had a number of serious scrapes with the law so Judge Sedgwick ordered him incarcerated at The Beltway. It's the toughest prison in the state." Jacoby rubbed his chin, feeling the bristly evidence of a long day without a shave. "Needless to say we were all quite delighted when we heard where Denner was going. There's a strange sense of ethics among prisoners in places like that. We figured Denner wouldn't last long once the story of Eleanora White's murder started making the rounds."

Jacoby looked at his watch. He was officially off duty after a marathon self-assigned double shift. Lifting himself wearily from his chair he opened the refrigerator and availed himself of one of those beers he'd noticed earlier. He plunked himself back down and pried the cap off the bottle as he met Edie's questioning gaze.

"Unfortunately that didn't happen. Denner was the subject of quite a few beatings and was knifed with a shiv at one point, but he managed to survive everything thrown at him."

He tipped the bottle of Pabst and took a long swig.

"To add insult to injury, he was paroled two weeks ago." Jacoby set the now empty bottle down and met Edie's gaze. "When he was sentenced to prison he threatened Pete. He said Pete would pay for, and I quote, _sticking_ _his stupid_ _PI_ _nose_ _where_ _it_ _didn't_ _belong_. Denner's back in town and he's behind Pete's disappearance, this I know. And we will find him. Whatever it takes we will find him. And when we find _him_ we'll find Pete."


End file.
